"God I love your waist."
Pale hands set themselves on Hermione's hips, applying a possessive pressure, too much pressure. She resisted the urge to whimper or to scuffle away. She had learned not to do that the hard way.
"I mean, so thin, so lovely... It's like it was made for my hands to rest there !"
Malfoy grinned at her. He believed his own words. It was obvious, disgusting.
"And it's so beautiful with bruises... I love seeing my purple hands on your skin."
She involuntarily stiffened. The bruises from the previous week had just faded. She had hoped he might not make new ones. His smile was blinding.
"Oh yes, you don't like that. You don't like being remembered that you," he whispered pulling her flush against his chest, "belong to me."
Suddenly his hands were everywhere. On her chest, in her hair, roaming down the length of her back. Hermione looked at the ceiling, hoping to forget what was happening at the moment, again. He hooked his two hand under her shirt at the back, his lips moist on her neck.
"Well, you do, o sweet, sweet temptation of mine."
She would not cry. She would not cry. She was strong. She was free, in thought if not in body. She would escape. This plantation. Those hands. This voice. She smiled as Malfoy tore apart yet another shirt, lips latching on her small breasts ravenously. She was Hermione Granger. And she was going to be a free woman.
Ron woke up with a start, panting.
"Hermione..."
Lavender moved beside him. "What ?"
He got up and began to pack up their stuff. Still half-asleep, she watched him move to quickly for someone who had just woken up.
"Ron," she whispered.
He kept on rolling the small piece of fabric he had used as a blanket during the colder night.
"Ron," she said more clearly.
"Yes ?"
"What the fuck are you doing ?"
He attached the rolled fabric to his saddle. "Packing up."
Lavender groaned. The horse gently neighed before leaning down to munch on the soft and moist grass.
"It's still dark..."
"Voldemort does not wait, he does not sleep, he does not eat. We can't wait."
She eyed him as he kept putting more and more things on their saddles, just leaving her makeshift bed.
"You realize you sound superstitious ?"
"Well, it's what I've heard."
"Have you heard of human beings who don't sleep and eat ? Because sounds to me like a fucking superstition."
He sighed. "I just... We've been riding for weeks without signs of her and..."
Lavender reached for his hand before whispering, "I know. And I'm worried too but we need to sleep. We're useless if we don't sleep."
Ron squeezed her hand tightly. Hermione could be anywhere. And he was useless. Incapable of finding her and helping her. Of helping her achieve freedom. The freedom Harry had died for.
"I remember her...", his throat tightened around his words.
Gently, Lavender pulled on his hand. He sat in front of her, eyes on the white coarse blanket. She rose to take a small jug of alcohol and two cups from his saddle before seating back down. He took one of the full cups gratefully, drinking it in one large swig.
"She was a slave. In a plantation with Harry. My family was-is poor and I'd always been told that slavery was bullshit."
Lavender poured him another cup, taking a sip of her own.
"I mean, it is, isn't it ?" he chuckled darkly. "It's stupid and fucking, fucking infuriating. And then I met them and it was even clearer you know ?"
She nodded as his eyes finally met her.
"They were miserable and yet... We became friends, best friends really, and one day, after a few years of me making regular trips to their farm, they told me that they wanted to escape. That they had a plan."
Ron sniffed. He had never told this story. This story was not over after all.
"I wanted to help and they agreed. And we did it. We put one of their barns on fire and stole three horses."
"What made them escape ?"
Ron's eyes met hers once again. They shined in the low moonlight.
"Hermione was..." he adverted his eyes, "the son of the owner he... he was violent. With her. She always had bruises, more than the others and... She said he raped her."
He stiffened as Lavender muttered. "Fuck..."
"She always said," he straightened, meeting her eyes, "she was free. And he could not do anything about that. That he could try to degrade her body but would never manage."
Lavender squeezed his hand as he slumped once again.
"She sounds like and admirable woman."
"She's one of the best people I know... I can't... I can't leave her now. I love her like a sister and I would never forgive myself if she died."
She sighed before releasing his hand and getting up. "Well I guess we better go now."
He nodded solemnly. They finished the packing up of what little they had before getting on their horses. She glanced at him. He looked spent. She clenched her jaw before slipping on the strap of her shotgun.
"Thank you Lavender... for everything."
She gave him a tight smile before setting off into the lightening night.
When Hermione woke up, it was to a rose-colored sky. She sighed, snuggling into the warmth. She suddenly tensed. His arms were wrapped around her. They were almost burning in contrast with the cold sunrise temperature. She could feel his chest against her back, his legs against her legs.
Heat rose in her cheeks. His breath was slow, fanning across her neck. He was still asleep. She realized her hands were wrapped around his arms, pulling him tighter against her.
She squeezed her eyes shut. This was Voldemort.
"Must be goin' now hurry the fuck up !"
She jumped at the coarse voice. The warmth left her instantly. She shivered as she mirrored his position, down against the rock, lest they would be seen from the ravine.
His eyes were still heavy with sleep and yet held that awesome focus so particular to him. He returned her stare. Hermione could not help but advert her eyes, choosing instead to roam his figure, very consciously not stopping on his parted lips.
Sounds reverberated along the rock from the ravine. Metal against rock, from the horses' hooves, sighs from men and liquids juggled in jars.
"Aye come on !"
The tumult was increased for a few minutes and then, the sole sound of hooves against rock reached them before fading. She released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. She met his grey eyes again. He was grinning, skin crinkling at the edges of his laughing eyes. She chuckled before erupting in a full belly-laugh.
It was nervous, purely nervous, she knew it. And yet it felt good, looking at the rose and yellow sky, laughter lost in its immensity. Suddenly, her voice was joined by another deeper. She turned again to face him and could not help but laugh even harder when she saw him, mouth wide, laughing.
"You can laugh ?"
The question had escaped her. His laughter stopped abruptly as he stared at her.
"Why could I not ?"
She raised one shoulder. "Don't you know all the rumors about you ?"
"Yes," he smirked, "I do. I know I'm supposed to be some kind of supernatural entity."
She glared at him. It seemed to only delight him further.
"You're not a god, you follow nature's law. You eat, drink, sleep like the rest of us. You'll die like all your victims did. You're not better you're just momentarily outcasted by fear."
Voldemort's jaw tightened. His grey eyes did not leave hers and she could see that there was no hint of laughter in them. So, he did not like to be reminded of his own mortality, or of the fact that he was a human just like the rest of them.
"The sun is up, we should go."
He rose, distancing himself from her to look down in the ravine. She watched him observe their environment before glancing at the horizon they had come from. She herself could not distinguish much but he seemed to focus his gaze on specific points before moving on.
"We can climb down a bit further. I'll get the horse and you'll wait."
"We aren't going to eat anything ?"
He began to walk alongside the cliff leaving her no choice but to follow him. "We'll eat tonight."
She clenched her teeth. With the acrobatics he had made her suffer through last night, it was a miracle she was still standing. Hermione could feel her muscles burning, her calves groaning in pain with each step she took. Still, she did not press. She had gone longer without food and with a harder strain on the muscles.
Voldemort glanced back at her when she did not bicker or argue further. She only turned her eyes to the desolated landscape before them in answer, prompting him to turn back.
Soon they were on their way. They left the rocky cliffs to enter a dense forest. It was refreshing although she could feel how tense Voldemort was. She often glanced around herself. After all, she knew just how easy it was to hide in foliage.
The day passed quickly, it always did. Somehow, this slow progression across the country was not boring. Hermione's eyes were always drawn to some element of the landscape, leading her in complex thought processes. Thinking for leisure rather than for survival was proving to be as fulfilling as she had imagined it would be.
Still, half of the time she just wondered where he was taking her and what he wanted with her. As he served her a small portion of beans, overcooked beans, she decided to at least get the answer to one of her questions.
"Why me ?"
His eyes fleetingly met hers before being fixed once again on his bowl. She took a mouthful of beans and repeated her question. Even from across their fire, she could see his jaw clenching.
Finally, he whispered, "you hit me when we met."
She frowned. She had hit him. But this statement was as far from an explanation as one could get.
"Actually," he chuckled, "you managed to land a couple hits even after that."
"So me hitting you has made you want to save me from hanging ?" she said flatly.
He shook his head. "You know, you smell like earth warmed by sun."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"It does to me."
Hermione sighed. He truly was infuriating.
"So you saved me because I smell like dirt ?"
"No," he scoffed. "You smell like earth. Like life, warm blood. And you are so, so free."
All the air leaved her lungs. It was a violent blow and yet, it felt heavenly. She wondered if he knew just how much importance she gave to that wretched concept. As his eyes met hers, grey clashing with black, she knew he both knew and did not. He could not understand but he was close.
"I felt more alive than I had in years when I made you bleed, scream."
"Why haven't you made me bleed again then ?" she breathed out.
"Why didn't you try to escape ?"
She frowned. "You're Lord Voldemort."
He gave her a wry smile before shaking his head. The flames only highlighted the sharpness of his features. For an instant, she thought he indeed looked supernatural.
"You're well past that aren't you ?"
She was. She had been for quite some time.
"What's your name ?"
His dark eyes were inscrutable. She wondered if he would kill her for asking this simple yet blasphemous-like question. But then she had never been one to back down from blasphemy. As his lips tightened briefly, becoming even more pink, she knew she had won some kind of victory.
"Tom."
She lifted her hand with a gracious smile and he took it.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione."
His long fingers wrapped against her wrist briefly as he smirked. "I know."